Wedding Bells and Other Headaches
by Quingy
Summary: Hawke and Varric are getting married 3 years after the Inquisitor got them together. With Varric the new Viscount of Kirkwall half of Thedas is invited. The happy couple is one Hawke-sized disaster away from eloping. (Post-Trespasser. Many cameos and ships. Smut in later chapters. Sequel to Rigged from the Start.)
1. Invitations

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Varric Tethras and Selena Hawke,_

* * *

"You simply _must_ tell us how you got engaged!"

Hawke grinned. "Oh… well Varric actually caught me a dragonling. I proposed on the spot. I've always wanted a dragon."

* * *

 _Viscount and Champion of Kirkwall,_

* * *

"How did you make an honest woman of the Champion?"

Varric chuckled. "She rescued me from pirates. Do you know what they do to dwarves? You don't want to. I don't know how to swim. Hawke swam with me on her back all the way to Amaranthine's harbour; I fell to my knees and begged her to marry me."

* * *

 _Son of Ilsa and Andvar Tethras,_

* * *

"Was it as romantic as his books? I adored _Swords & Shields!_"

Hawke nodded seriously. "Oh yes, I rode up on a griffon in fact. He had a bouquet of flowers and carried me into a meadow to ravish me."

* * *

 _Daughter of Leandra Amell and Malcolm Hawke,_

* * *

"I heard she turns into a dragon. Does she turn into a dragon?"

Varric leaned in and lowered his voice, "After the sun goes down, she lets me ride her. I just have to avoid the fire. And the tail. The bite marks fade."

* * *

 _The Viscount's Gardens in Kirkwall,_

* * *

"Was it love at first sight?"

Hawke and Varric looked at each other. "Absolutely," they said together.

* * *

 _The 30_ _th_ _of Justinian, 9:44 Dragon._

* * *

"Bran," Hawke called, "aren't you done writing those yet?"

The seneschal looked up irritably as Hawke entered his office, her mabari, Dane at her heels. A stack of freshly written invitations was on one side of Bran, while a larger stack of unwritten ones towered over him. "Apologies, Champion," Bran barely managed to contain his contempt and did not sound the least bit apologetic as he glared at the brunette mage and her wardog standing in his doorway. "I must ensure all the proper dignitaries are invited…you _are_ marrying _the Viscount_ , after all."

Hawke did not wait for an invitation to enter and plopped down on Bran's desk, causing his stack of unwritten invitations to scatter all over the floor. He shot her a murderous look as he began to clean them up. Dane helpfully chose this moment to walk all over the fallen invitations. Hawke scratched him behind the ears, ignoring Bran's seething rage.

"Bran, I'm marrying Varric. To the void with the dignitaries. I can count on my fingers the people I want invited to this wedding… You're not one of them, by the way. Sorry. I know how much you look forward to telling Varric he's making a huge mistake every day," she rolled her eyes at him as she said this.

Varric appeared in the doorway and at the sight of him Hawke's face lit up. Dane barked a greeting. Bran frowned at the three of them from the floor, continuing to pick up the fallen invitations while muttering about being unappreciated. Varric wrapped his arm around Hawke's waist and said to Bran, "Just think of it Bran, this time next month you'll be able to double the number of people you can turn away from speaking to the Viscount and the _Viscountess._ Isn't that what's truly important?"

Hawke glared at Bran. "As long as you never try telling _me_ I can't speak to the Viscount. I'll set you on fire." Dane growled menacingly for emphasis.

Bran forced an insincere smile for Hawke. "Of course, Champion," he drawled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Hawke, Varric and Bran were host to a growing number of guests in Kirkwall over the next few weeks as Bran continued to send out invitations. Aveline complained to Hawke bitterly more than once that the wedding was causing more trouble than the city needed, and couldn't Hawke and Varric just elope and get it over with?

Hawke privately agreed. "Why do we need a fancy wedding?" she asked Varric one night. Her feet were thrown across his lap as the two lounged on a couch in her mansion. Varric was reading some manner of important document, something to do with the rebuilding of the docks most likely. Dane snored by the fireplace.

Varric set the papers aside with a sigh. "To appease the nobles, unfortunately," he told her. "It's bad enough that Kirkwall appointed a dwarven Viscount but a lot of people aren't so pleased I'm marrying a mage."

Hawke laughed. "It isn't like our children would be mages," she argued. "Would they…?"

Varric shrugged. "Hell if I know, Hawke." He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder if that's how Enchantment Boy came to be…"

"Are you saying our children would be experts at blowing things up?" Hawke gasped. "Varric, I'm shocked."

He shook his head and pulled Hawke against his chest. She rested her cheek against his chest hair, tangling her fingers in it. His chest rumbled beneath her as he spoke, "Say the word and we elope to Antiva."

Hawke pulled away with a laugh, "Not Antiva, you fiend!"

He smiled and Hawke felt lighter at the love she saw behind his expression. Whenever he smiled at her like that she stopped breathing, amazed at her good fortune. "Isabela could marry us at sea," he suggested instead.

Hawke considered this. "That's actually not half-bad," she said, "except you can't swim. If you fell in, I'd have to jump in after you. You are not light, my love."

Varric's eyes widened. "Did you just call me _fat_?" he gasped. He spoke to his crossbow on the shelf nearby. "Bianca, did you hear that?"

She smirked and continued running her hands through his chest hair. His eye-lids flickered as he made a pleasured groan. "Don't bring Bianca into this," Hawke muttered, "it's all this chest hair that truly weighs you down."

Varric nodded. "Unfortunately I pledged to my lady-love to never rid myself of it." Once again he looked to his crossbow. "Isn't that right Bianca?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Sadly, when you drown at sea, Bianca will not be capable of pulling your hairy ass out of there."

The door to Hawke's mansion was kicked open with a bang, and Varric moved towards his crossbow as Hawke and Dane leaped to their feet. Isabela swaggered into the room and Hawke had all of two-seconds to take in her ludicrously large hat before her friend had thrown her arms around her. Her mabari huffed happily upon realizing the intruder was Isabela, and promptly curled back up by the fire.

"Didn't miss the wedding, did I?" she asked as Hawke spluttered through the other woman's hair in her face.

Varric huffed out a laugh. "No, Rivaini."

Isabela released Hawke and stepped back. "Good. Fenris and I rushed back as fast as we could. He's docking the ship," she giggled. "' _Docking the ship'_. I meant literally. We had sex before we got here."

"Varric and I could never get married without you two, who would start the brawl at the ceremony?" Hawke asked.

Isabela smiled crookedly. "I'm sure _you_ would, and Varric and Aveline would have to deal with cleaning your guests up afterwards."

"It's much better for my reputation with the nobles of Thedas if I can blame the brawl on my uncontrollable pirate friend and her escaped slave of an elven lover, however," Hawke teased, grinning at Varric. "After all, I'm to be the Viscountess."

Varric sighed. "We _really_ need to elope."

Fenris entered the room, apparently having finished docking the ship. "I heard a rumour a magister was coming to your wedding, Hawke?" he asked dangerously.

Hawke and Isabela laughed while Varric groaned softly.


	2. Not Just A Story Anymore

"The Viscount and soon-to-be-Viscountess _are busy_! Try making an appointment! Perhaps for after the upcoming wedding!" Hawke could not help but grin as she listened to Bran tell yet another of their wedding guests that she and Varric were unavailable. To be perfectly honest, she and Varric had just finished enjoying a vigorous make-out session on his desk, but she appreciated that Bran took joy in turning people away regardless.

Even if he was an asshole. It would take time to get past the years of being on the other side of Bran's personality. Probably he would also take a while to stop hating her for making his job so much harder. She did not intend to stop any time soon.

"Wait! You can't go in there! THE VISCOUNT IS UNAVAILABLE!" Bran yelled. Hawke and Varric exchanged a baffled look just before the door to Varric's office burst open and a dwarven woman with a bow strapped to her back and a hood covering the upper half of her face entered the room. Dane, who had been sleeping peacefully in the corner, moved to Hawke's side and did not take his eyes off the intruder.

"Hello, Varric," the woman purred. Hawke immediately felt on edge by the tone of her voice.

Bran burst in behind her with several of Aveline's guards behind him and a smug look on his face as he prepared to eject the woman through force. Hawke suspected that was his favourite part of his job, and she was all too happy to watch this woman get tossed out when Varric said, "Wait. Bran, she can stay."

Hawke's eyes narrowed and Dane whined in confusion. Bran stammered an apology as he and the guards backed out of the room, closing the door behind them. "Not a very nice reception, Varric," the dwarven woman said in her sultry voice. "And here I even brought my invitation." She reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the many wedding invitations Bran had finally finished sending out.

Hawke's body was taut like a drawn crossbow, torn between the desire to sick Dane on this woman and the desire to grab Varric and run. Varric slid his arm around her and she relaxed ever so slightly. "Bianca…" he began and every instinct Hawke had switched to fight. Varric's arm around her tightened and he shot her an apologetic look. "You shouldn't have been invited," he continued.

When Hawke got out of here, she was going to _murder_ Bran. He had done this for petty revenge, she could feel it. She would electrocute him. Or perhaps freeze him solid and leave him as a chew toy for Dane.

Bianca stepped closer to them and Hawke's eyes narrowed dangerously. Dane growled a warning but the other woman was not threatened in the least. "Shouldn't have been invited to your wedding? That's hardly fair. You were invited to mine," she replied. There was a teasing quality to her voice that grated on Hawke; an _I've-had-sex-with-this-man-and-I-will-again_ undertone to her words when she spoke to Varric. It was as if Hawke was not even in the room.

"Your parents invited me to your first wedding. I didn't go. Neither did you, for that matter," Varric pointed out. Hawke could feel his fingers tracing circles on her lower back, she leaned into the touch and tried to let it calm her but Maker help her, she hated this woman.

Bianca laughed like he had just told her a dirty joke. Hawke's hands clenched into fists at her sides and she unconsciously began to spark with magic. "What can I say?" Bianca continued. "I wasn't sure the wedding was the right call."

Hawke lost it. "That's it!" she snapped, summoning a fire ball that glowed in her hands as she bore down on the smaller woman. At Hawke's side, Dane began snapping and barking at Bianca. Bianca for her part looked amused, though her hands did move closer to her bow.

Varric stepped between them. He wrapped his fingers lightly around Hawke's forearms and looked her dead in the eyes. "Selena," he said her name softly. His voice caressed her name, his eyes her face. It was unnecessary for him to say anything more, do anything else. The bond between the two was such that the smallest gestures were often the strongest. Hawke looked into his eyes and when he said, " _Selena_ ," she heard the unspoken, " _I love you._ "

The fireball in her hand sputtered out and Varric's fingers slid down her forearm to entwine with hers. Dane continued to growl, but Bianca was no longer in danger of losing a hand to his teeth. Varric returned his attention to Bianca, whose eyes had narrowed as she watched them. She tore her eyes away from their entwined hands to give Varric a suggestive smile. "Perhaps you and I could have a moment alone, Varric? After all, we're old friends. And I came all this way just to find out I'm not really invited."

Hawke took a breath as Varric squeezed her fingers. "Of course," Hawke said with a forced smile. Dane huffed unhappily. Hawke kissed Varric's forehead before she left and he smiled at her fondly. Hawke's mabari reluctantly trailed her to the door, barking once more at Bianca before he left.

Bianca's eyes followed Hawke until the door closed between them.


	3. Rivalry

Hawke found Bran in his office. From his expression Hawke knew he was still pouting about being unsuccessful in his attempts to remove Bianca. Hawke savoured his misery as she approached him.

"What do you _want_ , Champion?" he complained. "The Viscount said she could stay, his authority supersedes yours… _fortunately_."

Hawke drew herself up to her most imposing height and folded her arms in a threatening manner. Dane followed her lead, climbing with his front paws on Bran's desk and his teeth far too close for any sort of comfort. The look Hawke gave Bran would have made a High Dragon reconsider challenging her. "That was Bianca Davri," Hawke informed him. Bran's ever condescending expression changed almost imperceptibly, but Hawke caught it. "You invited her to our wedding," she continued, her tone dared him to lie.

He sighed, eyeing Dane crossly. "I did. She is an important member of the Kalna Clan." At Hawke's blank look Bran rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Champion, you know about as much about politics as a common urchin. The fact that you are going to be in charge of a city-state is frightening to say the least. Luckily for Kirkwall your soon-to-be-husband is at least _aware_ of politics, as much as he might choose to ignore them."

Hawke was unimpressed, as always, by Bran's nonsense. "You knew about her relationship to Varric, don't try and tell me that you invited her for political reasons. You did this to bother me."

Bran raised his eyebrows in feigned astonishment. "Why, Champion, I had no idea! I can't imagine any reason I would want to bother you. You're the soon-to-be-Viscountess. I have the utmost respect for you." Dane barked at him and Bran's eyes narrowed.

Hawke sighed and ran a hand down her face. "Bran, do you ever get tired of your own bullshit?" she asked frankly.

He smiled faintly. "Not really, no."

* * *

Hawke went looking for Aveline to distract her from her fiancé and the ex-love-of-his-life alone in his office. She was surprized to find Aveline, Donnic, Isabela and Fenris laughing together in Aveline's office when she arrived.

"Hawke!" Isabela called warmly. "Where's Varric? The six of us could have a game of Wicked Grace."

Aveline laughed. "You still owe me from the last time I agreed to play with you, Isabela."

Isabela waved this away. "Fenris and I made more than enough from the slave ships we captured this time, you don't need to worry about me not paying you back. Unless you're afraid to lose, Captain?"

Fenris had been watching Hawke's expression. "Hawke is something wrong?" he asked.

Donnic kissed Aveline on the cheek. "I should really get back on patrol," he said. "Wonderful to see you all. Hanged Man later?" he asked. Everyone nodded and Donnic left, stopping to give Dane a thorough scratching on his way.

"Are you and Varric still trying to figure out a way to elope?" Aveline asked. "Because my guards arrested another of your 'noble' guests last night for rowdy behaviour in the Rose."

Isabela laughed. "You arrest someone _every_ night for rowdy behaviour in the Rose. Don't blame Hawke's wedding."

Hawke looked at each of her friends before she said softly, "Bianca is here."

"Bianca?" Fenris echoed in astonishment. His dark eyebrows had disappeared beneath his white hair.

" _The_ Bianca?" Isabela gasped.

Aveline's eyes had narrowed. "She's alive, then? I assumed she had died, the way he talked about it."

Fenris nodded. "I thought the same."

"Where is she?" Isabela asked.

"They're in his office," Hawke told them plainly. Dane growled.

"Together? Alone?" Aveline growled.

"Varric asked this of you?" Fenris asked softly.

"I trust him," Hawke said. She did. She _did_ trust him. But then why did she feel like she had been gutted?

Isabela examined Hawke's face for several seconds before grabbing her arm and propelling her towards the door. "That's it," she said. "We're going to go kick Bianca's ass back to whatever hole she crawled out of."

"We're coming," Aveline declared.

As soon as they opened the door to Aveline's office, Merrill rushed in, her arms full of books. She dropped all of them in surprize. "Oh! Hawke!" she exclaimed. "Seneschal Bran told me you were here so I came looking for you!" Hawke sighed and bent down to help Merrill clean up her books.

Against her better judgement, she had agreed to let Merrill help plan their wedding. She had always found it nearly impossible to refuse the elf anything. Now every day she spent at least an hour looking at all the flowers Merrill thought they should have, and did Hawke think it would be possible to ride in on a griffon? What about a dracolisk? She had heard a rumour that's what the Inquisitor used to ride. Maybe the Dalish would loan Hawke a halla if she asked nicely, one to match her dress. Most of all Merrill loved the dresses.

They picked up the last of the books and Isabela said, "Sorry kitten, no time. Hawke needs to go beat someone up."

"Oh! Who? Can I help?" Merrill exclaimed. "It's been so long since we've beaten things up together!"

"Sure, kitten, you can come," Isabela agreed, wrapping one arm around Merrill and the other around Hawke she led the group out of the guards quarters. Fenris, Aveline and Dane brought up the rear as Isabela explained, "Bianca showed up to ruin Hawke's wedding."

"The crossbow?" Merrill asked. "How could she ruin Hawke's wedding? OH! You mean the girl Varric named the crossbow after! Well, that's rather exciting, isn't it?" She caught sight of Hawke's expression and added, "Not for you! But it'll make a good story! Varric _loves_ stories. Especially about you beating things up, Hawke. If you beat up Bianca he'll finally have a story about her he can tell people."

Despite herself, Hawke laughed at that. "It…makes some sense," Fenris commented grudgingly from behind them.

"Of course it does. That's how all romantic stories go," Merrill continued. "It can't be true love unless you have to fight a duel. Or a dragon! Is there a dragon?"

"And…now it's gone," Fenris muttered.

They reached Varric's office and Bran rushed out to stop them. He opened his mouth and Hawke said, "I warned you, Bran. On. Fire."

He seemed to debate whether it was worth it for several seconds before he sighed and relented. "As you wish, _Viscountess,_ " he said bitterly. As he stalked back to his office Hawke heard him add, "That is, assuming you still marry the Viscount…"

She opened her mouth, about to shout a string of Isabela's best insults at Bran when Varric's office opened and Bianca and Varric exited together. Varric looked at his gathered friends with some surprize. Merrill waved at Bianca until Isabela gave her a stern look and she dropped her hand.

"This is your group of misfits, then?" Bianca asked, stepping away from Varric to survey them. She stopped not a foot in front of Hawke. "Aren't you missing some?" she asked. She stared dead into Hawke's eyes as she continued, "The apostate who destroyed the city. He was your lover, wasn't he? Whatever happened to him?"

Hawke had turned the floor around them to ice before she consciously made the decision to attack. Bianca drew her bow, attempting to retreat as Hawke froze her feet in place and gathered the energy for a fireball. Dane leaped at Bianca, snarling.

"Selena," Varric said. Hawke met his eyes. She took a breath. She allowed the floor to thaw and called Dane back. Varric smiled at her the way he always did and Hawke felt herself calm.

She looked at Bianca. She noticed the difference in the way Bianca looked at her now, after whatever Varric had said to her. Bianca looked at her with true bitterness. Before Hawke had only been a distraction. Now Hawke had won.

"Can I talk to you?" Hawke asked. "Alone?" She ignored the offended huff Dane made.

Bianca raised an eyebrow. "You plan to freeze me in place again?"

"Not if you don't draw your bow," Hawke said pointedly, and Bianca returned her weapon to her back.

"Fine," Bianca nodded. "Let's go, Champion."

Hawke led the smaller woman through Varric's office to his balcony, feeling the eyes of her friends, her mabari and Varric's most of all as she went.

As she looked out at the view of the still-rebuilding Hightown, Hawke found herself at a loss. She was uncertain what exactly to say to this woman. The only woman Varric had ever loved, who he had loved as long as she had known him. The woman she had always thought stood between them. The woman she had hated for years, knowing nothing but her name; the woman who now hated Hawke for being in _her_ way. Hawke had never, ever thought to find herself here.

"I should have seen it coming," Bianca said into the silence. "Sure, he loved me for years. He never told anyone about us, or about me, but he loved me. 'The only story he could never tell'. But you…you're all the stories he _can_ tell. The one who everyone knew he loved. You're ruling a city-state together now. You're famous. He made you a legend. Don't think for a second you'd be where you are without him, because you wouldn't."

"I—" Hawke tried, but Bianca cut her off.

"I knew he loved you. You know how? The way he wrote about your relationship with that apostate. He almost never mentions himself in his own book but he was obsessed with who you were in love with."

"I wasn't," Hawke whispered. "I didn't love Anders. It was always Varric."

Bianca's eyes on Hawke were heavy and Hawke stood her ground. "Enjoy your wedding, Selena," she said eventually. "Varric deserves to be happy. He was never going to get that with me."

Bianca left, and Hawke stayed on the balcony. After several minutes Varric came to find her. "Are you alright?" he asked her.

She looked into his warm brown eyes and smiled. "I could have taken her," she said seriously.

Varric chuckled and pulled her against him. "I don't doubt it, Hawke. Not for a second."

"When you tell the story," Hawke asked him, "will you say that I beat her up? Just a little?"

"Anything for you," he agreed. "I should probably throw in a dragon fight or two, though. Have to make it believable."


	4. Wedding Planning

"The Viscount is busy. Try again sometime next year." Bran's snide disinterest was easily audible from Varric's office.

"Wonder which guest is bothering us today?" Hawke asked. She had several of Merrill's most recent wedding gown books open in front of her and was currently losing her mind with boredom at the prospect of choosing one.

Varric looked up from his papers. "You could go find out," he suggested with a knowing smirk. "The gowns will be here when you get back. Or not. Who knows what could happen while you're gone?"

Hawke kissed him. "Marry me?" she asked breathlessly.

He chuckled and slapped her ass playfully. "Maybe later," he replied.

She hurried out of the room with Dane at her heels, shooting Varric a flirtatious look over her shoulder that he returned. Sure enough Bran had succeeded in scaring away this visitor, but Hawke ran past him and caught sight of familiar shiny white armour descending the steps.

"Sebastian!" she called.

He stopped and looked back, his bright blue eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Hawke! I was told you and Varric were busy…"

"Bran always says that," Hawke laughed, running to hug her friend. She refrained from mentioning that in the case of Sebastian, she was fairly certain Varric had _told_ Bran to say that. "You came all the way from Starkhaven?"

"I would not miss your wedding, Hawke," he told her sincerely. "Nor Varric's. I must say it's rather surprizing either of you ever settled down. Though seeing you together it makes more sense." He smiled at her. "You look _happy_ , Hawke."

She bumped his shoulder with hers. "And I remember a time when I used to tease you about marrying you!"

Sebastian flushed and chuckled. "Yes, well, if I recall correctly Hawke you once offered to marry Corff if he brought you another ale."

"Blighted bastard didn't do it, either," Hawke complained bitterly.

Sebastian laughed.

* * *

"Ooooh, Hawke, what about this one!" Hawke sighed and slid the book across the table towards her. Merrill's large green eyes eagerly watched for her reaction. "Isn't it _beau-_ ti-ful?"

Hawke's closest friends were all at the Hanged Man for the evening, and Merrill had insisted on bringing the wedding books. "Where would I keep my staff?" Hawke asked. "Or my dagger?"

"You can't have your weapons at your wedding!" Merrill exclaimed.

Aveline nodded from across the table. "Agreed, Hawke. No weapons. I'll have enough problems with security without needing to worry about you," she warned.

"Don't worry, sweetness," Isabela added, plopping herself into the empty chair beside Hawke. "I'll show you all the best places to hide your weapons…as for the staff…that one's _on Varric_." She dissolved into giggles as Aveline sighed.

"Did I miss a dirty thing?" Merrill asked in a hushed voice.

Hawke ignored this. "Aveline you can't expect me to go to my wedding unarmed. What if we're attacked?"

Fenris nodded from beside Aveline. "At Hawke's wedding, it does seem likely," he agreed.

Varric returned to the table carrying more drinks. He handed one to Hawke. "I assume we are once again discussing the many reasons why we should give up and elope?" he guessed. Hawke laughed.

"Your betrothed wants to bring weapons to your wedding," Aveline informed him.

Varric considered this. "Well…" he said. "It _is_ Hawke's wedding."

"That's what Fenris said," Isabela chuckled.

"What about Bianca?" Sebastian asked. "A crossbow that size is hardly appropriate for a wedding."

"Honestly," Varric told them, taking a sip of his drink, "it never occurred to me to bring her to the wedding. I thought she might get jealous."

"Wait…" Merrill said, "Are we still talking about the crossbow? Or the dwarf?"

Into the awkward silence, Isabela said, "Who is marrying you two, anyway?" She gasped then asked, "Can I do it? Please? Pretty please?"

"You can only marry them at sea, Isabela," Aveline pointed out.

"Right. Shit," Isabela complained. "You could get married on my ship!"

Hawke smiled at her. "Let's call that a Plan B, alright?" Isabela was clearly disappointed but did not argue.

"Isn't Varric friends with the Divine?" Fenris asked.

Varric raised an eyebrow. "I think she's a bit busy."

"The Inquisitor is moving to town soon, I hear. Into that mansion you gave her _illegally_. Bran has been complaining to me about that ever since," Aveline informed them. "Having the Herald of Andraste marry you would…certainly be interesting."

Hawke smiled at that. "She did get us together," she said.

Varric frowned. "Now isn't really the best time to ask her to officiate a wedding, I don't think. She's going through a lot. She did send me a letter saying she'll be there, though."

" _You_ could do it, Sebastian," Hawke said suddenly.

Sebastian's eyes widened. "Hawke, I am no longer a brother in the Chantry…"

"No, you're a Prince now. Either way you have the authority."

"Technically Revered Mothers are the only members of the Chantry with the authority to perform marriages," Sebastian pointed out.

"You're not a member of the Chantry anymore, Sebastian. We just covered this. Keep up," Hawke argued.

"Hmm…" Varric mumbled. "The Prince of Starkhaven marrying the Viscount and Champion of Kirkwall. I honestly can't decide if this is a great idea or a terrible one. Either way, I'm sure it will piss off Bran."

Hawke beamed. "Please, Sebastian? Please!"

Sebastian's face broke into a slow smile and he shook his head. "As you wish, Hawke. I will be your Plan A."

"Don't get cocky!" Isabela teased. "Everyone knows they're one crisis away from Plan B."

"Perhaps that is why I agreed," Sebastian said with a smirk.

"Hawke," Merrill interrupted, "you never said if you liked the dress?"

Varric's arm wrapped around Hawke as her head dropped onto the table.


	5. All That Remains

"Do you have an appointment, Serah? Oh…oh of course…apologies Messere…"

Hawke sat up straighter at the sound of Bran _backing down._ "Did you hear that?" she asked Varric.

Across from her Varric was also watching the door curiously. "I did," he agreed. "Either a blood mage just took over Bran's mind, or we have a _very_ important guest."

There was a soft knock at Varric's door and with an exchanged glance, Hawke moved to open it. Dane stood beside her, ready as ever.

"Hello, sister," Carver greeted her. "I'm sorry I took so long. Warden business, you know how—"

Carver didn't get to finish whatever excuse he had been making because Hawke had thrown her arms around her little brother's neck. "You came," she whispered.

"I couldn't miss my big sister getting married, could I?" he laughed into her ear. "Even if it is to a dwarf."

"Good to see you too, Junior," Varric greeted him, reaching for Carver's hand as Hawke finally let her brother go.

"So…" Carver said as he shook Varric's hand. "You and my sister?"

Varric nodded. "Kirkwall can't agree on which of us is marrying down. The nobility and the merchant's guild think I am, marrying a human mage. The common folk think Hawke is, marrying a dwarf."

"And you?" Carver asked.

"I don't give a nug's ass what anyone thinks, if this woman will spend her life with me."

Carver nodded. "Well then, I guess we're to be brothers," he said with a smile.

* * *

"Have you been in there, since?" Carver asked gently.

Hawke lifted her gaze from her stack of mail towards their mother's bedroom, where Carver was looking. She met her brother's eyes, the same blue as her own. "No," she said. "I haven't."

"Why not?" he asked. "Varric lives here with you now, doesn't he? What if you have children? You'll always keep that room closed?"

Hawke took a breath. Carver had not been there when their mother had died, had not failed her. It wasn't the same for him. "I can't go in there," she told him. "Don't ask me about it again."

He studied her for a long moment before he nodded. "As you say, sister."

* * *

"Daisy, I don't think Hawke wants to look at those again tonight…" Varric tried gently.

"But she has to!" Merrill exclaimed. "You're getting married in two weeks and she hasn't picked a dress! She can't wear her robes!"

"Well…" Hawke began, causing Varric to chuckle into his ale.

"You can't, Hawke! You have to wear a dress!" Merrill shoved the book across the table towards her.

Carver sat down with his freshly filled ale. He smiled shyly at Merrill before glancing at the book. "Are these for my sister? Oh, she'd hate that one," he said, turning the page. "That one too." He flipped several more pages before he stopped. "This…this is like mother's," he said. "Bethany…Bethany always wanted to get married in mother's dress."

Hawke closed her eyes against the memories of Bethany as a young girl, asking Selena to help her try on their mother's dress. Insisting that Selena try it on as well. " _You look so beautiful, Selena! Like a Princess! One day we will both marry Princes, and we can both wear this dress to our wedding."_

Hawke's voice was a dry croak, "Bethany always wanted us to grow up to marry Princes. She liked to pretend that was possible for us, even though we were mages."

Merrill's voice was gentle, "Varric isn't a prince, Hawke, but he's very, very close."

" _Aha_ , so that's why you're marrying me!" Varric accused. "I see how it is."

Hawke choked on the laughter as it forced its way past the lump in her throat. She rested her head on Varric's shoulder. "You've caught me," she agreed. "I'm in it for the title."

"Champion wasn't good enough for you?" he teased.

"Why stop at just one?" Hawke retorted. "After Viscountess, I'm going for Divine."

"I don't think Divine Victoria will take too kindly to that," Varric replied.

"I can take her."

Varric sighed and said, "The scary part of you saying things like that is that you _can_ , but sometimes I really wish that you wouldn't."

"What do you think your Divine name would be?" Merrill asked to Varric's extreme disappointment. "Sebastian told me they pick them out of a hat!"

Hawke nodded earnestly. "I would need to seriously consider it."

"'Victoria' is very _stern_ , isn't it? What about something like Anabelle or Betsy?" Merrill suggested.

"Absolutely," Varric agreed, laughing. "Absolutely Hawke would be 'Divine Betsy'."

"I think you've made her reconsider her plan now," Carver pointed out as Hawke's face had twisted at the sound of the name.

Varric stood up. "Come on, _Betsy_ , we should get home."

"If you ever call me that again, I will call off the wedding," Hawke threatened. Varric chuckled.

* * *

 _You can do it,_ Hawke thought. _Just open it._

Light spilled in from the street lamps outside the windows, the sounds of the few remaining gangs brave enough to stay in Kirkwall were just audible to Hawke as she stood in the darkness of her mansion, staring at her dead mother's bedroom door. She had been doing this for three nights now, trying to work up the courage to open it.

Dane had followed her from her bedroom, only to lie at the top of the stairs, watching her with curious eyes. "I can do this," Hawke told him. "It's just a room."

Her mabari made a huffing noise that she interpreted as encouragement. Still, Hawke reached for the doorknob and froze. "I'm a coward," she said. "I failed my mother, and I can't face it."

"You're not a coward, Selena," Varric told her. She had not heard him sneak up on her, stupid rogue and his stealth. His arms wrapped around Hawke's waist and pulled her against his solid form.

She looked down into his eyes. "Why am I so afraid of this room?" she asked.

"I don't think you can know until you go inside," he replied.

Hawke made an exasperated noise. "Suck it up, is what you're saying?"

"Yes but when I say it, it sounds wise," Varric teased her.

She took one of his hands in hers. "You'll come with me?"

"Anywhere you ask me to, you know that."

Hawke took a deep breath, and with Varric's hand in hers, she opened the door.

They began coughing as they entered the room; years of dust floated in the air and coated the furniture. "I shouldn't have kept it sealed," Hawke whispered.

"It's only dust," Varric replied. "Easy to fix."

Hawke nodded and stepped further into the room, Varric at her side. Her eyes swept across the furniture; looking for…she wasn't sure what. They stopped on her mother's desk. The vase of wilted flowers, the long dead lily petals scattered across the surface. Hawke squeezed Varric's hand so tightly it must have hurt but he made no complaint.

"Varric, can you please get rid of those?" she managed to say. He hurried to do as she asked, sweeping all of the petals into the vase and leaving the room. Hawke's eyes went to the closet next, and she opened it. Her mother's clothes were untouched; her perfume still clung to them. Tears sprung to Hawke's eyes and when Varric returned he found her curled up on the floor, clutching one of the dresses to her chest.

"Come here," he told her. He sat beside her and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his thick arms around her as she cried. "When my mother died, I sold the house we lived in. That was when I moved into the Hanged Man. I couldn't stand living in the same place where she had…wasted away." He took a breath. "I know it's hard, and scary, Selena. I'm here. And you are _not_ a coward. I threw my mother's things away; I didn't want the reminder."

Hawke cried against Varric's chest a little while longer, and he stroked her short dark hair with his rough fingers. Eventually Hawke mumbled, "I got your chest hair all wet."

Varric laughed softly. "I won't hold it against you."

She smiled at him and slowly got to her feet, pulling Varric after her. "I won't throw her things away," Hawke said. "But it might be time to move them out of this room."

* * *

Bran stormed towards Hawke when she entered the Viscount's Keep the next morning, wearing the expression of utter annoyance and disdain he seemed to reserve for her alone. "Sebastian Vael?" he demanded. "Prince Sebastian Vael, of _Starkhaven_? Tell me, do you _deliberately_ make decisions this stupid, or are you _completely_ ignorant?" Dane growled a warning at Bran's tone.

"I can't say I know what you mean," Hawke replied in an innocent voice.

"Ignorant, then. I suspected as much. Should I explain to you how it will look if the Prince of another city-state conducts the ceremony for the marriage of Kirkwall's Viscount, or should I start by explaining what exactly the point of individual city-states are, the _entire_ foundation of the Free Marches, the country you have lived in for several years. I forget myself. You're not a Marcher. You're a Fereldan Dog Lord!"

Aveline had been drawn downstairs by the commotion and her stern voice cut through the Keep. "Bran!" she snapped. "You forget yourself! You are speaking to the Champion of Kirkwall, soon to be your Viscountess. If she wishes her _friend_ Prince Sebastian Vael to perform the ceremony at her wedding, that is entirely within her rights. A strong friendship between the rulers of our city-states will do us no harm. Apologize to the Champion, and then get back to work!"

Bran closed his eyes for several seconds before he managed to say through his teeth, "Apologies, Champion. I was out of line."

When he had left, Hawke turned to Aveline. "You really need to teach me how to get Bran to shut up."

Aveline smirked. "Easy. I practiced on you for years."


	6. Friends and Foes

"Sister," Carver whispered in a choked voice. "You... I wish Bethany were here to see this. And mother. And father."

Hawke ran her hands down the soft material of the dress. It was simple, Leandra had not had the money for an expensive dress when she had run away to marry Malcolm. For all that it was not a fancy, noble ball gown, Hawke adored it. The dress she wore was not exactly like her mother's had been. Her mother's had covered the shoulders completely; Hawke's had only thick straps. Her mother's had been finely embroidered in a floral pattern, while Hawke's dress was the same soft cotton, but lacked embroidery. Still, both were floor length, and both had a high neckline, though Hawke's had a low cut back. Both were the colour of a pearl.

"I'm glad that you're here with me," Hawke said to her little brother.

He smiled sadly. "I always thought it would be Bethany who got married first, of the three of us."

"Me too," Hawke agreed.

"What do you think she'd say? If she were here?" Carver asked.

Hawke smiled. "I think she'd ask me if Sebastian is single," she joked.

Carver laughed. "She would have gone for him, wouldn't she?"

"Absolutely. It could have been a double wedding. We could have both been in charge of our own city-state..." Hawke trailed off.

Carver reached out. "Sister, come here..." He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "We still have each other. Bethany, mother and father would all be so happy for you. You know, Mother told me once she thought you and Varric were meant for each other."

Hawke pulled back to look up at Carver, astonished. "She did? But we weren't even together back then."

He nodded. "I know, I thought she was crazy. But she said you were perfect for each other and you just needed time to figure it out."

"Mother always knew best..." Hawke whispered.

Carver kissed her forehead. "Be happy, Sister. It's what they'd want. What I want. Varric wants it too."

* * *

"Aveline…" Hawke began hesitantly.

Aveline looked up from the report on her desk, raising an eyebrow at Hawke. "You look as if you're about to propose marriage Hawke," she teased.

Hawke exhaled a laugh. "You're one to talk, I was there when you were chasing Donnic, remember?"

Aveline smiled faintly. "I remember. You and Varric were both full of advice on how I should just tell him how I felt."

"Yes…well…" Hawke spluttered.

Her friend laughed. "What do you want, Hawke?"

"Will you be my matron of honour?" Hawke blurted out.

Aveline considered. "Do I need to wear a dress?" she asked.

" _I_ have to wear a dress. It's only fair," Hawke argued.

"I'm in charge of security," Aveline pointed out.

"Well, we could always carry weapons," Hawke suggested casually.

Aveline shook her head. "Oh, no, I am not letting you weasel your way into bringing weapons to your wedding by making me your matron of honour, Hawke."

Hawke did her best to look affronted. "Aveline, would I ever manipulate you like that?"

"Yes. Yes you would."

Hawke sighed, but then a slow smile spread across her face. "If you say no, I'll ask Isabela."

"Damn you, Hawke."

* * *

Dane snored contentedly in Hawke's lap and she scratched the war hound behind the ears. When Varric got home and found the two taking up the couch he could not help but grin. "I heard Aveline agreed," he commented as he came into the study. "When I say 'I heard', I mean, 'she complained to me all afternoon'."

Hawke laughed. "She didn't want the job to go to Isabela. Have you chosen a best man?"

Varric sighed and slid into the small space Dane's legs did not take up on the couch. "Members of the Merchant Guild have been trying to bribe me for the position since we announced our engagement," he told her. "I'll probably ask the elf; best to have him near for when the fighting breaks out, anyway."

Their eyes met and they both laughed. "Aveline and Fenris, huh?" Hawke said. "Well, that should scare away any _sane_ people thinking of interrupting the wedding."

Varric nodded. "What about the rest of the party? Junior? Rivaini? Daisy? Choir Boy is doing the ceremony."

"We're uneven," Hawke pointed out. "You could ask Donnic…"

"Or Bran," Varric joked. "He'd _love_ that."

"Are any of the members of the Inquisition coming to the wedding?" Hawke asked.

Varric nodded. "Bran invited half of Thedas. They all sent me letters to say they'd be there."

"What about one of them?" Hawke paused. "Wait…is Divine Victoria coming to our wedding?"

"What is it she says now? 'Love is the Maker's best gift and is infinite'. She and the Hero of Fereldan are apparently _both_ coming. Didn't I mention that?"

Hawke swallowed. "That's not a big deal…" she lied. Dane twitched in his sleep and she patted him absently.

"Hey, we can still choose Plan B," Varric said.

Hawke sighed. "Blow off the Divine, you mean?"

"She's a personal friend, Selena. She won't be upset."

Hawke ignored this. "Who will be your third groomsman?" She sighed. "I was going to ask Charade, as well, but I guess I can't now."

"Hold on a moment," Varric said. "What if the Rivaini is my best man?"

Hawke laughed. "Aveline will be furious that Isabela gets out of wearing a dress."

* * *

"Mistress Lavellan! Are you quite sure I cannot persuade you to return the key to the city?"

Hawke nearly ran to open the door as soon as she heard Bran announce their most recent guest. Varric followed at a more natural pace. "Ellyntia!" Hawke warmly greeted the elven woman, ignoring Bran's twitchy irritation completely as he stalked off.

When they had first met, Hawke had strongly disliked Ellyntia Lavellan. It had begun as a petty jealousy for the woman who had inspired religious fervor from Varric, and once they had met in person Hawke had been blindsided by the ethereal beauty of the slender elven mage. Her raven hair, milky skin and violet eyes that matched the colour of her tattoos exactly. Lavellan was a woman who carried herself with grace and sophistication, while Hawke had always been hot-tempered and sarcastic.

Ellyntia was also one of the most generous and caring people Hawke had ever had the pleasure of meeting. She had made an effort to ensure that Hawke and Varric were happy together, when she had no reason to get involved. Hawke was proud to call her a friend.

As Lavellan embraced Hawke with her only arm, Hawke felt overwhelmed with sympathy for what she had been through. "You get settled into your new estate alright, Lucky?" Varric asked her as the two women separated.

Lavellan's smile was small but genuine. "It's lovely. Thank you, Varric," she said. "Sera wanted me to tell you that the roof is perfect."

Varric laughed. "You're both here for the wedding, then?" he asked.

Lavellan nodded. "Yes, though we plan to stay afterwards, as well. With the Inquisition disbanded, I thought I'd take you up on your offer of residing here. At least for a while."

"You're moving to Kirkwall?" Hawke echoed. "That's wonderful!"

"Varric always made it sound so…homey," Lavellan deadpanned.

"Hey! You're talking to the Viscount and Viscountess," Varric pointed out. "It's _our_ city-state whose honour you're offending."

Both women laughed. "I think we know more than most people exactly how messed up Kirkwall is," Hawke said. "That doesn't mean I won't fight anyone who says otherwise. Remember what happened to the Arishok?"

"Is it true you ran in circles around a pillar to keep him away from you?" Lavellan asked.

Hawke sighed. "Varric, since when do you tell people what really happened?"

"In that case what really happened was better than anything I could make up."

* * *

"Cullen has a mabari puppy now, you know," Lavellan told Hawke from where she was kneeling on the floor of Hawke's estate giving Dane a belly-rub.

"Varric mentioned it," Hawke replied. "I hope he brings it with him to the wedding, I'm sure Dane would love a friend."

Lavellan laughed softly, a beautiful sound. "I bet you would," she crooned to Dane. He moaned in contentment.

Hawke found herself unsure what exactly she should say. She wanted to ask if Lavellan's hand pained her or if the knowledge of her ex-lover being one of her people's legends was something she was dealing with, but she suspected those topics were probably things the other woman wanted to avoid.

"You're staring, Selena," Lavellan said into the silence. Her violet eyes met Hawke's. "At my arm. You've been staring all day."

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"You're worried?" Lavellan guessed. "Join the club. You should have seen my companion's faces after… well, after it happened. Varric and Sera were not impressed...Bull thought it was cool."

"You cut it off yourself?" Hawke asked.

"I wasn't left much choice," she muttered bitterly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hawke asked cautiously. "About…him?"

Her beautiful face flickered with emotions; regret, and longing, anger, loss… "I owe him my life," Lavellan said eventually, softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "He is deeply complicated. I fear he is also committed to a path he does not truly believe is the right one, and desperately wishes for me to save him. However I may have to save everyone else instead." Her violet eyes shone with tears when she looked at Hawke and Hawke was at a loss. Lavellan saved her needing to reply. "You killed Anders," she said.

"I did," Hawke agreed slowly. "But I didn't love him."

Silence reigned once more and the two women sat together until the fire finally died.

* * *

When Hawke awoke with a bag over her head and a throbbing skull, her first thought was: _What did Isabela and I_ do _last night?_ It was certainly not the first time drinking with her pirate friend had ended with her in dangerous circumstances. Once, Isabela had convinced Hawke that they could _definitely_ sneak past the Bone Pit's dragon and snatch its treasure before it noticed they were there. That plan had not worked out how they had hoped; it had taken weeks for Hawke's eyebrows to return.

"Isabela?" Hawke croaked. Her tongue was thick and chalky. She had picked up enough from Isabela that it took Hawke only a moment to identify the toxin she had been given; one designed to knock her out for several hours. From the smell of her surroundings, she had no doubt that she was in Darktown. Lovely. She hadn't had the pleasure in years.

"Shit!" someone swore, Hawke would have bet several sovereigns that someone was a dwarf from the accent. "She's awake! Damn toxin was supposed to last _hours_! Stupid, nug-humping dusters can't even brew a proper poison…"

"Shut it!" another, deeper voice ordered. "The poison was fine. Should have given Hawke a larger dose, damn human has the constitution of a bronto."

"Did she really kill a dragon?" a third, nervous voice asked. "I mean…a real dragon? I heard she's friends with the Herald of Andraste too, and that woman killed every last dragon in Thedas for sport!"

Hawke chuckled and was rewarded with the sound of one of her captors squealing. "You have me at a disadvantage," Hawke said courteously. "Usually when signing autographs I can see what I'm signing."

"Quiet, Champion," the deep voice ordered. Hawke decided he was the most problematic of the group, and likely the ugliest. "Give her another dose," he ordered one of the others.

The nervous one replied, "Of course!" Hesitantly he added, "Does she really sign autographs?"

Hawke smirked. The sound of someone getting smacked was followed by the nervous voice grunting in pain. The first speaker held a foul-smelling vial up to Hawke's mouth. "Drink it, Hawke, or else we'll find a less pleasant way to get it in your system."

Hawke sighed and obeyed, and after several moments she once again lost consciousness.


	7. A Minor Complication

When Hawke woke next, her arms and legs were bound to a chair and the bag had been removed from her head. All in all, she considered the situation an improvement. A quick scan of her surroundings revealed the three dwarves from earlier had brought her to…Anders' old clinic.

"Here?" she asked.

One of the dwarves, the ugliest one with a thick scar down his face looked up at her voice. "It's been empty for years," he told her, and she was not surprized in the least that he was the deep-voiced one.

"What do you want?" Hawke asked. It had been years since anyone had cared enough about her to bother trying to kidnap her. Even then usually people were too afraid of her to go after her directly. Was she losing her edge?

"We work for the Merchant's Guild," ugly told her.

Hawke laughed. "Really?" she asked. "Honestly I always thought Varric exaggerated how much of a pain in the ass they were."

Ugly glared. "The Merchant's Guild does not approve of you marrying the Viscount. They had set up several, more palatable choices for Master Tethras. Choices that would have been far more profitable to the Guild."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "I definitely remember Varric telling me about one of your 'palatable matches' trying to assassinate him several times. A Helmi daughter?"

"I don't think you're taking this seriously, Hawke," Ugly threatened.

"Me?" Hawke gasped. "Andraste preserve us!"

The nervous dwarf, who was actually decent looking if a little twitchy, stepped forward. "Maybe we should just let her go…" he suggested.

"Still want that autograph, right?" Hawke guessed.

Twitchy turned red. Ugly glared at him, then at Hawke. "Varric Tethras _will_ marry a Merchant's Guild member, Hawke."

Hawke gasped with feigned delight. "You want me as a member of the Merchant's Guild? I didn't think you accepted humans? I'm _flattered_ …"

"Let's just kill her," the third dwarf suggested. He had been lounging on one of the remaining cots, sharpening his daggers. "She's too much trouble to risk it."

Frowning, Hawke summoned a small flame and began to melt the chains around her wrists. The task was tedious and would attract attention, so she borrowed a page from Varric's book. Her eyes found Twitchy's. "You want to hear about how I killed the high dragon?" she asked. His eyes widened with interest. "My friend Isabela—I'm sure you've heard of her, Admiral Isabela of the Felicisima Armada?" Hawke figured name dropping her friends could not hurt her while stalling for time. "She and I decided we wanted the treasure the dragon was guarding. Well, we asked Aveline—you know Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen?—we asked her and Sebastian—Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, that's right—we asked them if they would come with us. They didn't want to, but Isabela and I can be pretty persuasive. So anyway the four of us went out to the Bone Pit and Isabela and I tried to sneak past the dragon to get to her treasure, well, that plan didn't work…" One of the manacles on Hawke's wrists snapped off and Hawke breathed an internal sigh of relief.

Twitchy leaned forward to hear the rest of the story but Ugly growled, "That's enough. We're here to satisfy the Merchants Guild. You will not marry Varric Tethras."

Stabby stood up from his cot and stalked towards Hawke, daggers gleaming. "I've got this handled," he whispered.

"Do you really?" Hawke replied with a smile. She whipped her arms around and let loose a stream of concentrated ice, freezing Stabby and Ugly solid. Twitchy stared at her, petrified. "Do you still want that autograph?" she asked. He nodded numbly.

* * *

"The Merchant's Guild, Hawke?" Varric sighed. "Here I thought they were the one group in the city we could count on my enemy list, not yours."

All of Hawke's friends had been gathered in her mansion, seconds from beginning the search party when Hawke had crashed through the door. Now they were arguing about how best to deal with the situation.

Hawke collapsed into her sofa and Dane immediately crawled onto her lap, coating her face in slobber.

"I should arrest them," Aveline argued. "They kidnapped and intended to murder the Champion of Kirkwall."

"That was just henchmen," Varric told her. "Trust me, you won't find any evidence linking them to the Guild."

"What about the one Hawke allowed to live?" Sebastian asked. "Surely he would testify."

"He won't live to see morning," Varric told them solemnly.

"Why not? Is he sick?" Merrill asked. "Oh, they're going to kill him, you mean."

"We cannot allow them to get away with this," Fenris snapped. "How do we find them?"

Varric sighed. "You don't want to go after the Guild, elf. The majority of them are like me, and have false identities and fake fronts that shield their involvement. The ones who don't...well, they are not the kind of people it's worth challenging."

"They've made an enemy of my sister," Carver declared. "That means they've made an enemy of me."

Lavellan spoke up, "Are you really afraid of challenging them, Varric? I'll do it for you."

Isabela laughed. "I like her," she said. "I think she just accused you of having no balls."

"Does it matter?" Hawke interrupted. "We expected _someone_ to have a problem with our wedding. At least now we know who it is."

"You just want me to agree to allow weapons at your wedding," Aveline pointed out.

"After this, you must admit the necessity," Carver said.

Lavellan's eyes were narrowed. "Is this your plan? Wait for them to attack you again? Bring weapons to your wedding assuming they _will_ interrupt it?"

Hawke and her friends looked at each other. Hawke shrugged. "That's sort of just how we've always done things."

"You can't argue with an extreme lack of results," Isabela added.

"It's certainly exciting, though!" Merrill enthused.

Lavellan shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered.

* * *

"Why is Isabela here?" Aveline complained.

"To see you in a dress, of course," Isabela laughed. Aveline glared.

"Hawke, these dresses are beautiful!" Merrill enthused.

"Kitten...you've got that on backwards," Isabela pointed out, helping the elf with a soft sigh.

Charade stepped out from behind the partition in Hawke's bedroom and smiled. "I agree, Cousin. They're lovely."

Having Charade in her wedding was almost like having Bethany involved. Her cousin shared the soft-spoken gentleness that Bethany had possessed; Hawke often wondered if Bethany might have also shared Charade's self-confidence had she not been born a mage.

Hawke examined her three bridesmaids. She had chosen black and blood red for her wedding colours, a choice that Merrill had been unhappy with but which amused Varric greatly.

Hawke had allowed them to choose their own dresses as long as they were one colour or the other. Aveline wore a sleeveless black dress with thick straps; her impressive arms would never have fit within the confines of anything different. She also appreciated the mobility offered, and had insisted on a slit down the side of the floor-length dress to allow her to fight if need be.

Merrill's dress was blood red and had more frills than Hawke would have thought possible. It had short sleeves and a hoop skirt that fell to just above her knees. Merrill seemed to enjoy the way the dress moved when she danced, and was captivated by her reflection in the mirror.

Charade wore a blood red strapless dress with a black bow around her waist. The skirt fell several inches beneath her knees.

"When do we get to see your dress, Cousin?" Charade asked.

Hawke sighed. "How many times must I wear the thing?"

Aveline glared. "I wore this for you."

Isabela raised an eyebrow. "You really should wear it for Donnic. If we fixed your hair, you could work at the Rose."

"Shut up, whore."

Hawke changed into her dress and when she stepped out from behind the partition her friends fell silent.

"Oh, Hawke," Merrill whispered.

"Leandra would be proud," Aveline said.

"Sweetness, Varric won't be able to look away," Isabela added.

Charade wrapped her arms around Hawke. "You look like a Princess," she said.

Hawke hugged her back tightly. _This dress is for you, Bethany._

* * *

"It really is not necessary for you to wait out here, Champion," Bran informed Hawke. "When the Hero of Fereldan arrives you will be the first one informed, I assure you."

Hawke locked eyes with him and put a great deal of effort into smiling every bit as insincerely as he did. "Of course, Bran. I'm sure you wouldn't inform her that the Viscount is busy and to come back after the wedding. After all you're so fond of Fereldans."

The skin around Bran's eyes tightened with irritation and he stalked away in a huff, muttering about Dog Lords and their manners. Hawke sat down on the top of the stairs of the Viscount's Keep and Dane curled up beside her, his head in her lap.

Aveline joined her not long after Bran had left. "The Hero of Fereldan is due to arrive today, isn't she?" she asked. Hawke nodded. "Great. Another mage in the city. Just what Kirkwall needs."

Varric's voice carried to them from outside his office. "Not just any mage, Aveline: a relative of Hawke's."

"Is that meant to improve my mood, Varric?" Aveline inquired sarcastically.

Varric sat down on the steps beside Hawke, giving Aveline his most charming smile. "Improve your mood? I wouldn't dare," he teased. "Just try to avoid the urge to toss her out of the city. She is Divine Victoria's lover."

Aveline rolled her eyes. "As if I would throw out the Hero of Fereldan."

Varric opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the Viscount's Keep opened and a mabari bounded through, barking cheerfully. Dane lifted his head from Hawke's lap and stared. The two dogs locked eyes and a second later Hawke got a kick to the stomach as Dane launched himself down the steps to greet the other hound. The two dogs circled each other, barking happily.

A small woman with chestnut curls and olive skin entered the Keep after the mabari. "Toth!" she called. "Indoor voice." Her mabari lowered the volume of his barking and she smiled.

Hawke and Varric got to their feet and followed Aveline down the stairs. The woman's dazzling bright green eyes swept across the three of them and settled on Hawke. "Your mabari, I expect? What's his name?" she asked.

"Dane," Hawke answered.

The other woman smiled faintly. "How Fereldan of you."

"Why Toth?" Hawke asked.

"Ironically, I was fascinated with the Old Gods of Tevinter before I fought the Archdemon." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Valerie Amell."

Hawke shook it, noticing that they shared the calluses of one who wielded a staff. "Selena Hawke," Hawke told Valerie. "This is Varric Tethras and Aveline Vallen; the Viscount and Guard-Captain of Kirkwall."

Amell nodded and shook hands with each of them in turn. "Quite the welcome," she commented.

"It's an honour to meet you," Aveline replied. "I fought at Ostagar under King Cailan."

Amell's eyes darkened and she nodded in understanding.

"I must say," Varric said, "I was expecting more of a family resemblance between you and Hawke."

Hawke felt the same. As well as being much taller than Valerie, she was far paler. Valerie had sharp features which combined with her intense green eyes to give her a naturally dangerous look. Hawke had always thought of herself as someone who naturally appeared either dazed and confused or inappropriately amused. She needed to work to look dangerous.

"I take after my father," Amell explained to Varric. "He was Antivan."

"I'm flattered you took the time to come to our wedding," Hawke said.

Amell shrugged. "Alistair-King Alistair, that is, and Queen Anora asked me if I would be the diplomatic representation from Fereldan. Alistair wanted to give Teagan a break, and Anora worried he would not be well received after how the Exalted Council went. Also, Leli-I mean Her Holiness informed me she would be in attendance."

"So are you actually here representing Fereldan's monarchy?" Aveline asked, frowning.

"If I'm being completely honest, no," Amell admitted. "Alistair is just happy that he gets to say I'm here on behalf of Fereldan. The truth rarely matters. I can't be the only token diplomat coming to this."

Varric laughed. "I know Antiva, Tevinter and Nevarra are definitely sending theirs."

Amell smiled. "Exactly. It could be worse. I get to meet the cousin I've heard so much about and attend her wedding, while also spending some time with Leliana."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. " _You've_ heard about _me_?"

Amell smirked. "Please. Who hasn't read _The Tale of the Champion?_ Leliana got my copy signed."


	8. Blood Ties

Sometimes Hawke found she truly missed the days when Bodhan had been in her employ. These days when someone knocked at her door it was up to her to answer it.

"Selena," Gamlen greeted her when she opened the door. "It's been a long time."

Hawke sighed. She already regretted opening the door. "Hello, Uncle," she said.

"I heard you're marrying that dwarf of yours," Gamlen muttered, walking past Hawke into her house uninvited with his usual charm.

Hawke closed the front door behind him, following him into her house. "Yes, Uncle, I'm marrying _Varric_. Who told you?" _Bran, you asshole,_ she thought bitterly.

"The Viscount getting married is hardly a secret, girl," Gamlen barked. "You thought I wouldn't find out?"

Hawke said nothing. She crossed her arms and stared at her Uncle. Sometimes she felt like she was too harsh towards him, after all Charade had a decent relationship with him by all accounts. Other times Hawke felt she was too nice to him, that she would never forgive him for the way he had spoken to her the night her mother had died. The way he had looked at her.

When the silence became uncomfortably awkward, Hawke said, "What do you want, Uncle?"

She realized then that Gamlen was nervous. He scratched the side of his face and avoided eye contact as he spoke. "Selena, I know you don't care for me much...you likely didn't intend to invite me to your wedding. But...you and I, we don't have much family left. Charade told me you asked her to be in your wedding. I know Carver's in town, he paid me a visit. Your mother..." Gamlen trailed off, choked with emotion. "Your mother would have been so proud to see you married. Our parents weren't at her wedding. Our father never walked her down the aisle. I... I know how much Leandra regretted that."

Selena sighed. "Uncle, my father is dead. I'm not quite sure what you're getting at."

"I would...if you would...that is..." Gamlen shook his head and cursed. "Damnit girl, you really make things difficult, don't you? I'm trying to say I would be honoured to walk you down the aisle. At your wedding. If you even invite me, that is," he grumbled.

There it was again. The conflicted feelings her uncle always caused. It was so much easier when she just ignored him. Whenever she interacted with him he always seemed to manage to both inspire affection and disdain.

He was a grating, irresponsible, selfish, ignorant weasel. But he was also her uncle and sometimes he managed to find it in him to prove that he was decent.

"Thank you, Uncle," Hawke said. "I would appreciate it if you would walk me down the aisle."

* * *

"Don't we have enough yet?" Amell complained. In the short time they had spent together, Hawke had come to realize that her cousin had rather a lot of complaints. She was considering introducing her to Fenris, she was sure they would get along famously.

"You don't have to be here," Hawke pointed out. "You're more than welcome to go back to your room at the Hanged Man."

"That place is disgusting," Amell stated, crinkling her nose.

Lavellan laughed softly. "Don't say that within earshot of Varric, you'll break his heart," she warned.

Amell sighed and bent to pluck yet another flower. Merrill insisted these particular flowers that only grew in a certain area of Sundermount were necessary for Hawke's bouquet. She had been too busy working on some sort of surprize for Hawke to come along, however, and so Hawke had invited Lavellan instead. She had thought her Dalish friend might enjoy getting to see Sundermount, a place with historical significance for her people.

Amell had tagged along as she had nothing better to do in the 'cesspool of a city' while waiting for Divine Victoria to arrive. Lavellan tolerated her presence with far more grace than Hawke.

"If the Hanged Man is not up to your standards, I'm sure there are places outside of Kirkwall you could stay," Hawke muttered, picking several of the flowers and adding them to her basket. They had a heady fragrance and a tangible aura of magic. Hawke wondered vaguely what magical properties the silver petals possessed.

Amell's green eyes narrowed slightly, her lips creasing into a frown. "I hate camping," she told them. "I spent the longest year of my life sleeping on the ground, and ever since I've tried to avoid it whenever I can. Unfortunately, Grey Wardens don't exactly settle down. Some nights I almost miss the Circle."

Lavellan placed several more flowers delicately into the basket, Hawke noticed she had a better eye for them and her stack of flowers seemed more potent somehow than Hawke's. "The Inquisition had a castle, and yet I always find myself longing for the forest," she confided. "I always got lost in Skyhold."

Amell glared at the elf. "You're complaining about your castle?"

Hawke interrupted. "I think we can all agree that Kirkwall is truly the finest place in Thedas to call home." She smirked at Lavellan. "Not that Skyhold wasn't very pretty."

Lavellan was about to reply when Dane and Toth came tearing up the mountain path towards them. The mabari had been running together further down the mountain, but clearly something was wrong. They barked agitated warnings and growled in the direction they had come.

"Is someone coming, boy?" Hawke asked.

Amell approached Toth, kneeling before him. "Darkspawn?" She asked. He whined. "Animals?" Another whine. "Men?" He barked, wagging aggressively. Amell nodded. "Ambush?" He barked again.

Amell stood and faced the others. Lavellan watched her, her violet eyes wide. "I knew mabari were intelligent but that...is amazing."

"Toth and I have been together for many years," Amell replied. "We've travelled across Thedas together. No one sneaks up on us."

Hawke and Dane looked at each other and a silent understanding that they would never be that hard-core passed between them. She reached into her bag and dug around for a mabari crunch, tossing it to him. " _Who's a good boy_?" she crooned. Dane barked happily. Amell glared at her while Lavellan concealed a small smile.

"An ambush awaits us lower down the mountain," Amell told them. Her eyes trailed across the group, stopping on Lavellan. "Can you fight?" she asked.

Lavellan raised her only hand and allowed lightning to crackle across it, spreading up her entire arm. She raised an eyebrow, and Hawke was startled to note that her violet eyes glittered with the intensity of her magic. "With one hand, you mean? Better than most with two," she replied.

"Excellent," Amell said. "This should be fun."

There was a brilliant flash of light and Amell transformed into a massive bear. Hawke stumbled backwards, tripping over a rock, while Dane yelped. Lavellan tensed and moved to help Hawke. Only Toth remained calm, clearly the dog had witnessed this before.

Lavellan, her arm no longer crackling with lightning, helped Hawke up. Amell-the-bear rolled her eyes.

"Morrigan must have taught her that," Lavellan commented. "She could turn into all sorts of animals...even a dragon, once."

"What?!" Hawke demanded. "A dragon? That is so unfair…"

Amell-the-bear growled and Hawke cringed. The bear began stomping down the mountain path towards the ambush, Toth at her heels. "I suppose we follow her," Lavellan said.

As they made their way down the path Lavellan whispered to Hawke, "We didn't really discuss a plan. Are we going to run right in? Spring a trap? Is Amell going in first?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "I don't really do plans."

Lavellan sighed dramatically. "Of course. I forgot who I was talking to."

It turned out Amell didn't really do plans, either. She and Toth charged into the group awaiting them in the burial grounds, which turned out to be a dozen well-armed humans and elves. Dane ran in after them, and Hawke slammed a few of them into the ground with a blast of force magic. Lavellan summoned a spectral blade and dashed forward, slashing those unfortunate enough to be near her.

The battle was over in less than a minute. Amell-the-bear disemboweled several of them while Dane and Toth mauled those Hawke had knocked down. Lavellan slashed through four men with her blade, and Hawke froze the remaining two solid.

None of their group had even been scratched.

Amell shifted back to her human form and said, "I left this one alive for questioning."

They approached the man, who was wide-eyed with terror. "Who...who are you?" he gasped, his eyes darting from Amell to Hawke to Lavellan and back before settling on Amell as the most frightening.

"We-" Amell began, but Hawke cut her off.

"I'm Selena Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. This is my cousin Valerie Amell, the Hero of Fereldan," she said, clapping an irritated Amell on the back. She wrapped her other arm around Lavellan's shoulder and continued, "And this is my good friend Ellyntia Lavellan, the Herald of Andraste."

Hawke's face spread into a broad smile as she watched all the blood drain from the man's face. His eyes filled with tears. "Oh Maker's balls," he swore. "They never told me you'd all…" he trailed off, the tears trickling down his gaunt face. "We were hired to assassinate you, Champion," he admitted to Hawke hoarsely. "I swear," he added, his eyes darting nervously between Amell and Lavellan, "I _swear_ we would never have gone after either of you!"

"Assassins?" Hawke repeated enthusiastically. "Who sent them? This is so embarrassing, I probably didn't get them anything…" Amell sighed and Lavellan smiled faintly.

"Only a dozen men?" Amell asked him. "Surely you knew it would take more than that. My cousin isn't entirely incompetent, after all."

"High praise," Hawke muttered. Amell ignored her.

He swallowed. "There are more," he told them. "Further down the mountain. We were hoping...to take her by surprize."

"That probably would have worked, had I not been here," Amell agreed.

"I'm right here!" Hawke complained.

Amell considered her. "You're right, I'm sorry." She dug into her bag and pulled out two mabari crunches, tossing one to each hound. "Dane would have warned you. After all, _he's a good boy_."

Lavellan laughed. "I suppose we have more fighting to do, then?" she asked.

"Merrill will be so disappointed I didn't get the flowers," Hawke sighed, thinking of the basket they had abandoned.

Amell considered the dwarf. "Who sent you?" she asked.

"Obviously, the Merchant's Guild," Hawke supplied.

He shook his head. "I don't know who put out the contract."

Amell's eyes narrowed. "You're a Crow, are you not? You accepted it. You have to know who you're working for."

"I'm just one of dozens of Crows here...we came with our Master. He took the contract."

Amell's expression became fearsome. "An entire cell? _An entire cell is here?_ " she demanded.

"Valerie, what does that mean…?" Hawke asked.

That was when the _real_ ambush sprung.


End file.
